


look what you started

by sadonsundays



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A teeny bit of angst, Cousin Incest, Frottage, M/M, Wakanda, handjobs, hideaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 04:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadonsundays/pseuds/sadonsundays
Summary: "You got secrets, king?"





	look what you started

**Author's Note:**

> title by baby gum drop ariana grande

T’Challa roams the gardens as the sun begins to set, painting the sky a colorful hue of purple, pink and blue. 

He pauses, taking in the sight. 

Clouds stretch for miles and streaks of light glow so bright he has to look away, eyes stinging momentarily.

His father loved to watch the sun set with him. 

T’Challa does it alone, now. 

Well, sometimes.

Erik may be able to sneak up on a regular person, but because of the enhancements of the heart-shaped herb— T’Challa doesn’t fall into that category. 

“You may as well show yourself,” T’Challa says with an exasperated sigh.

A branch snaps as Erik jumps down from a tree alongside the garden trail, landing gracefully with a smirk.

“Damn cuz, why you gotta ruin the fun?”

T’Challa rolls his eyes and continues walking towards the sun. 

Erik follows, uncharacteristically silent. But T’Challa can feel the nerves radiating off of him— anxious and unsettled.

He doesn’t look back as he asks, “What’s on your mind, Erik?”

The name still feels strange falling from his lips but it is his cousin’s wish to be addressed as such, so T’Challa tries his best. 

“Can’t we just walk and not talk?”

T’Challa pauses, considering. 

“Of course,” he answers, turning around to face Erik, “but I feel as if you need to speak.”

Erik shrugs as he walks past him, looking at the ground.

T’Challa takes a deep breath, not in the mood for Erik’s games. 

“Erik...”

He frowns as Erik moves ahead of him, watches as he veers off the path. 

“Don’t just stand there cuz, let’s go,” he calls over his shoulder. 

T’Challa feels his mouth twitch— a ghost of a smile—as he follows Erik into the edge of the jungle.

“Where are we going?” T’Challa calls. 

Erik shakes his head and doesn’t respond.

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of secret life around them. T’Challa briefly closes his eyes, letting his feet carry him by instinct. 

His shoulders feel so heavy. The weight of Wakanda, of his family, the UN and their expectations— sometimes threatens to suffocate him. The simple silence of this moment is welcomed. 

T’Challa could use more evenings in solitude, in stillness.

He follows Erik further into the woods, deciding not to question again where he’s bringing them. 

It’s nice not to know.

Even though T’Challa grew up in Wakanda, he’ll be the first to admit he never spent enough time in his childhood outside exploring the grounds of his homeland.

He was always buried in a book, learning of culture and rituals, history and great leaders, of foreign lands he was certain could never measure up to his own. 

It would seem Erik is his opposite in many ways, this included. 

He’s brilliant, that’s indisputable. But T’Challa is impressed by how unbothered he is of lands unknown. He spends many hours out in the fields and forests of Wakanda, unafraid of the animals or terrain he may find.

T’Challa is not afraid, either. Few things scare him anymore. More uncertain, cautious. He hasn’t taken the time to get to know his own land as well as his cousin has. 

“Yo, you gonna stop thinking for a minute?”

T’Challa nearly runs right into Erik, having lost himself in his head again.

T’Challa pauses— taking in the scene before him. 

They’re standing in front of a wall of green, luscious plants— so thick T’Challa is dubious they can make it through. 

“Where are we supposed to go?”

Erik smirks.

“You ain’t lookin’ hard enough.”

He moves down the wall, crouching in a spot covered with tangled white and purple leaves.

Erik motions for him to come closer.

T’Challa walks over, kneeling next to his cousin as he raises his eyebrows at the bush.

“Look,” Erik tells him, grabbing a handful of the brush and moving it aside.

T’Challa leans down and nearly gasps at what he sees.

“What—“

There’s a little alcove behind the bush, and beyond that, a waterfall.

“Erik,” he says, in awe.

“C’mon,” Erik responds, pushing T’Challa to the side. “I’ll go first.”

T’Challa leans back, giving him room.

He watches as Erik gets down to the ground and crawls through, body nearly invisible to the outside eye as he gets deeper into the foliage.

T’Challa takes in the strong muscles lining his back, the thickness of his thighs, the smooth, dark blend of his skin—

He shakes his head, frowning.

It has been too long since he’s had a romantic partner. 

Once Erik is safely through, he motions for T’Challa to follow.

T’Challa gets on his elbows and knees, an oddly pleasant feeling overcoming him as he crawls over the dirt and leaves. He feels like a child again. 

By the time he makes it to the other side there’s a burst of energy renewed within him— a giddy, lightheartedness blooming from head to toe. 

He notices a pool of water that sits below the waterfall— it’s the clearest he’s ever seen. 

“Erik, how did you find this place?”

Erik shrugs as he says, “Former war criminals got lots of time on their hands.”

T’Challa cringes internally.

They’ve never truly had a proper conversation about everything that happened between them. 

Erik threw him off of a waterfall, T’Challa kept him alive when he wished to die.

He figures that’s all the talking they need to do for now. 

“Well? Don’t just stare at it!”

Erik begins stripping out of what little clothing he has on, revealing muscles honed to perfection from hours of excruciating push performances. 

Then suddenly, he’s completely naked. 

He stretches his body, letting out a satisfied moan as his muscles expand and pop.

T’Challa’s mouth fills with saliva.

Erik turns abruptly then, catching him staring. 

His smile turns dirty, salacious.

T’Challa knows he’s in trouble. 

“Well, well,” Erik begins, “what do we got here?”

T’Challa can feel a blush creeping across his cheeks, a flush spreading down his neck. He’s caught off guard, not used to being so directly called out.

Erik closes in on him, biting his plump bottom lip as his eyes scan T’Challa’s lithe body from head to toe.

“Erik, I was only—“

Erik holds up a hand. T’Challa is appalled. 

“Nah, Imma stop you there.”

Erik walks towards him, makes it so he has nowhere to go once his back hits the trunk of a gigantic tree. 

“You got secrets, king?”

Erik leers at him, crowding close against his body under the shade of the tree. His skin is sun warmed, smells faintly of the fresh dirt they crawled over to get here. 

He leans in, slowly. 

“Erik,” T’Challa breathes, overcome.

“You like what you see?” He asks, breath hot against the sensitive shell of T’Challa’s ear. 

He’s so close T’Challa can feel the heat coming off of him in waves, making his knees weak. 

He doesn’t answer for a moment, uncertain of how to respond. But then he remembers he’s a king, and kings are not known for being unsure. 

They’re known for taking what they want. 

“Yes, I do,” he answers, unapologetic. 

Lightening fast, Erik spins him around, pinning his broad chest against T’Challa’s back. One big, calloused hand comes to grip T’Challa’s hip while the other slinks around to T’Challa’s front— wrapping around his chest. 

He digs surprisingly sharp nails into T’Challa’s chest— right over his heart. 

“I could kill you,” Erik whispers, voice harsh and passionate, “I could rip your heart out—“

T’Challa gasps as Erik’s pushes his nails in deeper, only relenting when T’Challa begs, “Please—“

Erik’s hard against him, the rigid rod of his arousal digging into his lower back. It makes T’Challa moan, makes him arch against the tree and grind back against the pressure. 

“Fuck baby,” Erik groans, “it’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” T’Challa answers, a little too quickly. But he’s not ashamed to admit how badly he needs to be touched. 

“Me too,” Erik confesses, “fuck—you gotta be so wet—“

Erik’s hand finds the front of T’Challa’s pants, sliding his fingers deftly underneath the waistband. 

“Erik,” T’Challa cries out when Erik’s hand wraps around his cock, bringing it to life with each sure stroke. T’Challa grips the tree in front of him as hard as he can, panting aloud.

Erik’s grip turns rougher at the sound of his high, anxious sounds— handling T’Challa almost like an afterthought.

After years of nothing but gentle, tender lovers, this change in pace excites T’Challa more than he’d ever let Erik know.

“This how I do it to myself,” Erik grunts into T’Challa’s skin, breath warm and moist.

“Ahh— Erik,” T’Challa gasps, cock twitching at the thought of Erik, alone in his bed, touching himself.

“Gonna give it up to me?”

Instead of answering, he tilts his neck to the side in an offering to his cousin, allowing him to take what he wants. 

Erik doesn’t hesitate.

He latches onto T’Challa, sucking painfully on the thin skin, surely wanting to bruise. 

“Yes,” T’Challa whispers, “like that.”

His neck is one of the most sensitive areas on his body. Now that Erik knows this, maybe he’ll use it to his advantage in the future. 

T’Challa bites his lip at the image.

Erik pulls off his neck with a loud smack, thrusting his hips savagely against T’Challa’s gloriously plush backside.

“Damn,” Erik breathes, “this ass feels too good...”

T’Challa preens under the praise, shoving himself against Erik as hard as he can— wishing there weren’t so many layers between them.

“Ah—please...”

“I know baby, fuck,” Erik says faintly, holding on to his hipbones as tight as he can while he pistons back and forth in a mimicry of fucking. 

“Wana fuck you for real,” he murmurs, fingers bruising in their grasp.

“Get you on a bed, fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days...”

“N’Jadaka—“ T’Challa can’t help calling him that, his brain no longer functioning properly. He’s pretty sure he’s going to come in his pants, like some sex-crazed boy, any moment. There’s drool collecting in his cheeks, a flush burning him alight from the inside— he feels so wanton, so submissive—

He’s never slept with a man before, didn’t know how much he wanted to until now—silently hoping that in the future, Erik will follow through on thoroughly wrecking him.

“Yes, please Erik, keep touching me—“

Erik jerks him hard, speeding up as T’Challa sounds more and more hurt— the noises turning him on beyond return. 

He leans in, whispers against T’Challa’s temple, “Am I hurting you?”

T’Challa furiously shakes his head no, gasping out, “You feel so good, please, give me more—“

Erik pastes himself along T’Challa’s back, so close he’s like an extension of the man. He bites at the top of his shoulders, laving his tongue gently against particularly deep ones before moving on to more exposed skin. 

T’Challa’s heart clenches oddly at the sensation, like he’s being cared for— tended to.

He wouldn’t expect any soft emotions from Erik. 

His cousin continues to surprise him.

As Erik speeds up his thrusts and tightens his hand around T’Challa’s cock, T’Challa turns his head.

Erik’s lips meet his instantly and a lump forms in T’Challa’a throat at how right it feels— having Erik’s lips against his. 

Their wet mouths connect for so long that T’Challa literally gasps for air when they break apart.

Erik smiles against his skin and bites his ear, playful.

“You gonna come?”

T’Challa nods, pulse pounding rapidly in his flushed, aching cock. 

Erik increases his thrusts against T’Challa’s backside, big cock slotting snugly in the crease of his cheeks.

“Next time, imma fuck you raw,” he rasps, “show you what you been missin’ all these years—“

“Yes, N’Jadaka, yes—“

Erik’s hand that had previously been on his hip moves down to cup his balls while his other thumb digs into T’Challa’s slit.

“Come on me, baby,” Erik tells him, “show me how good I made you feel—“

“Ah-ahh—“

With a final grind against Erik, T’Challa’s cock spurts off into his slacks— feeling euphoric and sated as he empties pulse after pulse of release into Erik’s hands. 

“Gimme it all—“

Erik pulls him through it, hand not leaving T’Challa’s skin until he’s sure there’s nothing left to give. 

“Oh, oh—“ T’Challa pants, legs shaking from his soul-shattering orgasm. He grips the tree weakly, trying to breathe—

Erik’s pulls his pants down his thighs, exposing his cheeks. He grips them, two big handfuls, and spreads them, rubbing his leaking dick along T’Challa’s crack.

A poor imitation of something they both want much more. But it will do.

For now.

“Fuck—“ Erik grunts, nearly slamming into T’Challa, rutting against him like an animal, “gonna come—“

His arms wrap around T’Challa’s middle, cradling him, hands slightly sticky and wet from T’Challa’s release.

“Shit,” Erik groans, sounding pained, “so close—“

“Come,” T’Challa whispers, leaning back against him, “come for me,” he whispers against his lips. 

Erik lets out a low moan, muffled only when he presses his mouth to the nape of T’Challa’s neck and bites down hard. 

“Erik!”

Erik’s teeth don’t let go as he comes, hips jerking against T’Challa weakly. T’Challa feels warm liquid splash on skin and roll down into his crack. He’s never felt so used. 

It’s not a bad feeling.

He chooses not to explore what that means just yet, concern for Erik growing evident the longer they stand there.

T’Challa thinks nothing will ever be the same after this.

He wonders what Erik thinks.

They’re both breathing heavily, Erik even more so, and he keeps making these sounds— soft, vulnerable sounds— as his grip tightens more snugly around his cousin.

It’s as if he doesn’t want to let T’Challa go. 

“Let’s just stay,” Erik mumbles, almost sounding petulant.

T’Challa moves around in his grasp, entertaining the idea for a moment before he registers the area around them.

The sun has almost completely set, and soon it’ll be dark. They need to get back. 

T'Challa pulls up his pants, blushing slightly as he registers liquid on his backside. 

He needs to clean up. They both do.

"Another day, cousin."

Erik's left his side and is getting dressed, unreadable expression on his face. 

T'Challa walks over to him as he ties up his pants, noticing how the faintest reflection of the moon shines at the edge of the pool.

"It is beautiful, Erik," T'Challa says, wonder in his voice, "thank you for bringing me here."

"Yeah, well, thanks for the f-"

"Do not be crass now," T'Challa scolds him, "not after that."

"Fuck off," Erik responds, cold. 

They're quiet for a moment before Erik speaks again. 

"Will you regret it?"

T'Challa frowns, saddened suddenly by the defeated tone in Erik's voice. 

He turns to him, brings his hand to his chin as he tilts his face back. Erik is reluctant to return his gaze at first but T'Challa is a patient man. 

He would wait all night if needed. 

"Erik," he speaks delicately, "look at me."

Erik looks, eyes narrowed. 

"I will not regret this. Just like I do not regret keeping you alive."

Erik's eyes flicker back and forth, widening slightly. 

So, they've never talked about it. Maybe they should. 

T'Challa smiles, genuine and hopeful. Always hopeful. 

"Would you like to take a walk tomorrow evening?"

**Author's Note:**

> well. IW came and ruined my life and now i've put these two on the back burner for yet another notorious pair. that being said, i love t'cherik and will continue to write them as much as i can. PS- i know i rush endings--im sorry! anyone want to help me with this problem?? thanks for reading :)


End file.
